


almost.

by sutera



Series: Ignoct Week 2018 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: :U, Ignis whumpage abound, M/M, Truth Serum, also possessive noct, bc why wouldn't i ifojqilwjf, briefly tho sighs, well. deadly truth serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/pseuds/sutera
Summary: He's speaking aloud almost every thought that crosses his mind but he doesn't care. Not when Noct deserves to know.





	almost.

“Oh,” Ignis thinks he says when there’s a sharp punch to his gut. It’s a small reaction, something no one would even _hear_ much less detect considering the lack of distress in his features, but he sees Noct turn immediately nonetheless to look at him.

There’s an MT standing too close to Ignis. Far too close. It’s hand is enclosed around something sharp and terrible and Ignis can _feel_ something slipping from his stomach. It isn’t long, perhaps a couple of inches, but it’s enough to make him stagger back in a delayed response, far too shocked at the fact that he’d gotten hit in the _first_ place.

It’s debilitating, truly, to regard this situation from so far away and Ignis starts to think the contact hadn’t happened at all. No, surely _not_ , he thinks idly, pressing a hand against the area where the MT had struck. He couldn’t feel anything there which means he _isn’t_ hurt.

 _That’s the shock speaking_ , something yells from very, very far, _you’ve been injured, you must see to your wound_ —!

“Iggy?” Noct’s suddenly in front of him, brows drawn tightly together in utter concern, and Ignis feels his hands grip at his forearms. The sensation seems far away. How strange. “Hey, Iggy, you okay?”

Ignis blinks. Looks around. Ah. The MT that had been by him is now gone. Noct seems to have destroyed it. Ignis honestly had not noticed. Now, though, the battle seems to be over and Gladio and Prompto are a few feet away, the latter tending to a long, shallow cut on the former’s thigh.

“Gladio’s injured,” he notes absently; his mind feels sluggish now and it seems a chore to think. “We’ve curatives, don’t we?”

“Yes, yeah,” Noct says, in a hurry, which is strange considering there are no more enemies. No one’s going to attack them. Ignis looks slowly back at him and the gesture feels as if it takes a lifetime. The way Noct’s lips move seems to take a lifetime, too. “Hey, Iggy, _focus_ ,” Noct says and Ignis drags his gaze to look into his eyes. Azure blues. He’s always admired them. “Were you hurt? You’re acting _really_ weird and you’re—?” Noct’s leaning forward now, eyes narrowed and searching, before he sucks in a sharp breath. “What the hell?”

“You guys done?” That’s Gladio’s voice and Ignis breathes in slowly, breathes out slowly, just to look over. He’s feeling deeply tired now, for some unknown reason. Perhaps he’s not drunk enough ebony today.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Noct responds, voice going an octave higher. In panic, Ignis presumes, and wonders if he’s speaking about Gladio. Which is ridiculous. Prompto seems to have healed him up well enough. “His pupils—they—j-just have a look.”

Gladio’s leaning in now and Ignis thinks it’s amusing how much everyone’s trying to get a good look at him.

“You all need glasses,” he states, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

“They’re blown out,” Gladio says, not to him but to Noct, and turns to face him. “He get drugged? Poisoned?”

“Antidote coming right up!” And Prompto’s there on his left. Ignis hadn’t noticed him approach _either_ and he frowns, shaking his head. He notes, vaguely, his own hand is still pressed to his stomach. Why was that again?

Prompto breaks the antidote over him anyway and the cool wash of remedy soaks over him. Nothing seems to change, however. The blond frowns and glances anxiously at the other two. “It didn’t work!”

“It’s because I’m quite fine,” Ignis says and the words feel far too slow coming out.

Noct steps forward and frames Ignis’ face with his palms. He’s warm and a little sweaty from the exertion of battle and Ignis’ nose wrinkles. Noct notices, it seems, by the way he huffs out a near-silent laugh before he’s leaning in close again. “Iggy, c’mon. You’re not fine.”

Part of him acknowledges this as a distraction. The other half of him is _very_ cognizant of Noct’s scent and the way those beautiful eyes are so intent and focused. Ignis is breathless.

“You’re very stunning from this angle,” Ignis whispers, and he feels his lips curve into a ridiculously dopey smile. “It encourages me to run my hands through your hair. I used to do that so long ago, when we were younger. It’s a shame we’ve grown out of such close habits.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Noct’s staring at him and his jaw slowly drops, his eyes slowly grow wide. Astonishment in it’s more naked form, Ignis thinks; he quite adores it when Noct is more open with such emotions. He’ll never quite get over the expressions.

Noct makes a strangled sound and finally steps back. It occurs to Ignis that he’d spoken his last few thoughts aloud. No matter. Noct deserves to know.

“Noooot confusion then, huh?” Prompto’s giggling behind his hand while the other’s holding out a camera.

“Remind me to look at your photos later,” Ignis urges softly and the blond blinks in surprise before nodding.

Gladio sighs. “Must be some kind of truth serum he got stuck with. We should get Iggy to Dave. I’ve heard he’s been around these parts. Maybe he’ll know something.”

Noct makes a sound of agreement. Ignis is too busy staring at Noct’s arm to be worried about such plebeian things. He quite loves the definition of muscles Noct has built up. It’s clear he’s put in a lot of effort as they’ve all had.

“Your arms are well-defined,” he notes. “I’ve only touched them a few times since you graduated but you’ve left me wanting.” He ignores the way Noct chokes, the way Prompto starts guffawing, and the way Gladio’s jaw drops. Instead, he wants to touch Noct’s arm.

And then he does because he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Noct makes another noise, perhaps a yelp when Ignis grabs onto his arm and starts to trace his fingers over it, though a sharp inhale of breath follows and Noct is suddenly grabbing onto _his_ arm, staring at his hand. Staring at the trail of fresh blood that’s been smeared over his own skin.

“Iggy, _what_ —?!” Noct spits out, anger clear in his tone, before his gaze flits over to Ignis’ stomach. Ignis thinks, distantly, _the jig is up_. He laughs just a little, because somehow the situation’s _hilarious_ even though Ignis can’t entirely pinpoint a particular reason, and Noct’s hands fly to his shirt. Fingers deftly unbutton it, from the middle down to the bottom, and Ignis makes an unintelligible noise of protest at the action. Even in his floaty state he doesn’t approve of having to show off any kind of skin there. It’s… a discomforting thought and he tries to push at Noct’s hands.

It’s a weak push, though, a very weak one and Noct scowls when he feels and sees it.

“Let me see!” he snaps out, rocking back onto his heels to level his gaze, and Ignis grows still at the command.

“Whatever my Prince says,” he whispers, the thought pushed out unbidden, and Noct’s head jerks at the words.

He doesn’t reply. Instead he’s staring at whatever wound is on Ignis’ stomach and seems to be frozen in place. He can’t exactly make out Noct’s expression.

“Hey, Noct?” Gladio interrupts, getting on one knee to squint at the wound. “We need to get him moved now. Can’t tell how deep the wound is and we can’t close it until we know what type of poison or drug was used on him.”

“Yeah, right, of course.” Noct’s moody. Of course he’s moody. Noct straightens and takes his hand—at which Ignis starts to _smile_ at—before pressing it gently against the wound. “Iggy, keep pressure if you can. I-I don’t want to hurt you if I have to do it myself.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Ignis says, as gently as possible, because Noct seems so _tense_ all of a sudden and he entertains the thought of leaning in and kissing away the creases in his brows. Then he _does_ do it, feels the warmth and slight wetness of Noct’s skin under his lips, before Noct’s jerking away from him with wide eyes. He’s crestfallen at the reaction but he’ll not push. Not with Noct. Never with Noct.

“Hey, c’mon,” Prompto interrupts, pulling at Ignis’ free hand. “We should get moving, right, Iggy?”

“Of course,” Ignis says and then, once more without a filter, “your hand is warm.” His voice is full of awe. He’s never quite had so many hands lain on him within the space of an hour and so he _must_ say this at _least_ once—

“Yeah, alright,” Noct’s suddenly there, batting Prompto’s grip away. He’s scowling harder than before, if that’s even possible, and the blonde’s lifting his hands immediately in surrender; there’s a look shared between him and Gladio, though Ignis doubts Noct notices. No, instead, Noct’s tugging at his arm. “ _I’ll_ help him, thanks.”

“Noct,” Ignis acknowledges, and he’s reaching for the prince’s hand. He laces their fingers together tightly and doesn’t miss the way a flush seems to creep up Noct’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, smiling fondly.

“N-no problem,” Noct stammers out and that’s unusual. He’ll have to ask later on what that was about. Expect the world’s getting a little fuzzier and it’s harder to concentrate. His limbs feel weighed with sand and that bone-deep tiredness comes back with a vengeance. He leans on Noct a little more but maybe it’s a _lot_ because Noct’s suddenly staggering under his weight. “Iggy?!” he wheezes out, and Ignis doesn’t know how to answer that.

“Mm,” he thinks he says instead, an _attempt_ to answer but the world’s finally blacking out around the edges and all the strengths lost in his limbs; Noct’s own arms surround him, after a few moments of discomforting shifts, so warm and nice and he’s so _gentle_ —

“Muhh,” he slurs out instead and hands shake him but they feel so distant and fuzzy and his vision’s finally starting to go.

“Ignis! _Shit_ , guys, we need to get him over—!”

“I know, I _know_ ; _Six_ , Noct, give me a moment, will you?!”

“Dudes, he’s not breathing. He’s not breathing, is he?!”

“Iggy, hang in there!”

“ _Ignis_!”

The world fades out.

* * *

 

Ignis flutters into existence for a moment.

His head’s sore but at the same time he feels as if he’s floating. Like before, he thinks muzzily, but different. A bit more grounded rather than completely off his mind.

He drowsily opens his eyes and he sees white. Flinching from the brightness, he squeezes his eyes shut, and panic starts to rise in him. However, there’s a hand enveloping his own and gently squeezing.

“It’s okay, Iggy,” he thinks he hears Noct whisper to him, “you’re okay. Just rest, alright? We’ll take care of you.”

Calming, Ignis sighs. He thinks he murmurs back something but he’s not certain.

He flutters back out.

* * *

 

He wakes up again briefly, suddenly. His eyes fly open and he’s already trying to get up. Gods, he feels ridiculously disorientated. His mind is fogged. He wonders what time it is and how he... where is he?

“Noct?” he calls out, though it comes as a croak more than anything else and he coughs when dust catches on his sore throat. Coughs again when it doesn’t seem to go and _keeps_ coughing as he’s induced to a fit. His eyes squeeze shut and he curls up, deaf to the world because of the white noise invading his hearing.

“Ignis, hey, calm down—,” a voice says, bordering on desperate, with only thinly veiled calm. Ignis only notices because of the familiarity and immediately he settles, breathing deeply, grateful for the warm weight of a hand on his back. “I’m here, Specs.”

Ignis lets out a soft groan and rolls onto his back. His eyes feel far too sensitive and he spares a thought towards where his glasses have gone. Nausea rolls in his stomach. “Are you alright, Noct?”

A sigh comes from beside him and he manages to turn his gaze to Noct, settled in a chair by his bedside, and he seems to be rolling his eyes. Ignis blinks away the sleep-caused blurriness in his vision to appraise Noct. He seems tired, mostly, and uninjured it seems. Exasperated now, as well, at Ignis’ question. “Just—,” Noct starts, cuts himself off abruptly in frustration, before he blows out a harsh sigh. “Yeah. Fine. I’m _fine_. It’s you that wasn’t.”

Ignis rests his head back onto the pillow. He closes still-sensitive eyes. “What happened?”

“You don’t—?” Noct cuts himself off again. That’s something to confront later, Ignis imagines. Right now, Noct’s looking at the ceiling, as if to completely avoid his gaze. “Got poisoned,” he says roughly, “when you first collapsed it was—I don’t know. Something about eating at your brain. Temporarily shutting off key functions. Dave figures it was a truth serum gone wrong.” Noct’s mumbling the last few words.

“That… sounds horrifically advanced for Nifleheim,” Ignis says, frowning, and he opens his eyes. His mind races through the possibilities instead of focusing on the _truth_ part. He’d rather skip over whatever embarrassing things he’d said; he can only imagine it _too_ well, after all. “Perhaps it’s in trial? Though I doubt they’d equip troopers with this strain unless they wish for their enemies to spout secrets before dying an untimely—"

“Shut up!” Noct bursts out and Ignis sucks in a sharp breath of surprise, cutting himself off. He sits up, slowly, watching as Noct hunches over in his seat. “Gods, Iggy, just—shut up for a moment, will you? About—about that damn poison.”

Ignis averts his gaze to his lap. Ah. He’s found out the crux of the problem. “Apologies, Highness.”

“It’s not your fault,” Noct says tightly. He sighs. “It was just—it’s been a few days,” he finishes lamely.

A few days. That makes sense. Ignis glances at Noct; the prince isn’t looking at him. “Thank you,” he says softly, “for caring for me.”

“Well, roles have gotta be switched sometime, right?” Noct asks dryly, cracking a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Ignis lets out a soft, surprised noise when he takes his hand tightly. He tries not to react when fingers interlace with his own.

He tries not to _watch_ when Noct lifts it to press his lips against the exterior of his palm.

He fails, though, and stares. He thinks, quietly and clearly, that perhaps he’s said what he latently fears he would say when laced with truth serum.

Yet Noct’s lips linger and Ignis cannot help the heat rising to his cheeks because of it. Then Noct lifts his hand to his forehead and there’s something discernibly discomforting settling in Ignis’ gut because it should be the _other_ way around, technically. It should be Ignis giving Noctis such a show of respect along with his own silent apology for his carelessness.

But then, Noct seems to be doing it for something else entirely.

He doesn’t guess. He doesn’t try to. He doesn’t think he needs to break whatever thin barrier that lays between what has been spoken and what lingers in the air, obvious but _not_ voiced. After all, the future still awaits and they’ve everything else to get through, nevermind… nevermind _this_.

Maybe Noct thinks the same thing with the reluctant way he withdraws, with the way he stares at Ignis’ hand before his gaze shifts to Ignis’ own. It feels far too long, this exchange, teetering on the edge of _something_ —because, _yes_ , he can see the longing in Noct’s own eyes, the pure fondness and wonder and awe held _just for Ignis_ and Ignis does not doubt his own face has always held just the same, if not _more_ affection _always_ —, so Ignis breaks the contact first by shifting his eyes to his lap once more.

“Noct,” he says, a quiet warning in his voice.

He hears Noct swallow in the silence of the room. “Yeah.” His response sounds suspiciously thick.

Ignis is so remorseful for reasons he cannot explain. He breathes out a sigh. Closes his eyes.

“Get some rest, Iggy,” Noct says, so softly, and Ignis _loves_ him.

He nods but does not look at him. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> i might?? change the ending to a happier one or even continue this with another oneshot but!!! pls take love that can't be acted on because of Duty And Things :U


End file.
